


No Running in the House

by alonelywriter



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Caretaker reader, Comic Book Science, F/M, POV Second Person, Past Sexual Abuse, Reader Needs A Cigeratte, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Slow Burn, Time Travel, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alonelywriter/pseuds/alonelywriter
Summary: You were not supposed to be the one who ended up without a job and hated by the entire country, but it happened. Now here you are, out of time, taking care of men who you are pretty sure are psychopaths.At least you're getting paid more than you were at your last job.Plus, the men here aren't that bad once you get past all the violence and cursing.
Relationships: Medic (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Sniper (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Spy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader
Comments: 38
Kudos: 127





	1. A Job Offer

You lean back against the concrete wall, watching as your breath created little clouds around you. Your face felt dry from all of the crying you had been doing, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to clean it. Shakily, you look around the corner to see if the reporters are still there, and yep, of course they are. Their hungry faces don’t find yours, which you consider a blessing, but their presence still irks you. You had always been afraid of sharks, but you didn’t think you’d have to worry about them while you were on land. Turns out you were wrong.

You turn back around, your eyes finding a stain on the wall in front of you to stare at for a moment. You’ve never had many regrets in your life, always ready to add some sort of positive to whatever was going on that normal people would consider bad, but this… this whole experience was simply a shit show. Of course you knew that your life was going to change because you stood up for yourself, for all of the girls in the office, but it was all supposed to work out in your favor. You shouldn’t have been the one to get screwed over.

A ruckus behind your little safe haven of a column stirs you from your pity party, and you turn to investigate, only to grimace at what you see. There _he_ was, a smirk coiling around his face as he stared at his adoring audience. The reporters quickly surrounded him as cameras flashed and questions were screamed. No doubt everybody wanted answers to why someone as _amazing_ as him would be accused for something so horrible. You scoffed before turning back again, your hands shaking worse than before. You couldn’t help but listen to what was happening behind you.

“Dr. Anderson, Dr. Anderson, what do you have to say to the woman who accused you of such horrible things?”

“Dr. Anderson, Dr. Anderson, do you think this case will set back everything that you have worked for?”

You grimaced as the questions continued in the same fashion, a numbness overtaking you. They weren’t even saying your _name_. You had a feeling he was getting a huge kick out of this.

“Now, now everyone,” You flinched at the sound of his voice, so loud and arrogant, it made you feel gross just listening to it. “There’s no need to speak so harshly of Ms. (Y/L/N). The girl was simply acting out, as is typical for her age.” Your hands curled into fists. Funny how he remarked on your maturity all those months ago, but now he found you childish.

“What did you think of Ms. (Y/L/N)’s behavior today in the courtroom? Will there be any repercussions for her actions since the verdict?”

“Come now, people. The poor girl merely wanted attention on herself. Of course she could have done it in a better way, but I don’t think Ms. (Y/L/N) should be given payback in any way. After all, the jury voted the correct way.” The sound of everyone laughing behind you caused a nauseous feeling to creep up into your stomach. You suddenly wished that you smoked cigarettes so you could at least look calm and in control while you listened to these… monsters. Everyone always looked like they didn’t have a care in the world when they were smoking a cigarette.

“The only repercussions Ms. (Y/L/N) will be getting is a life back in unemployment, but I’m sure she was expecting that.” You pushed yourself off the wall and brushed off some imaginary dirt that was on your shoulders and thighs. You weren’t in the mood to listen to anymore conversations today.

Hopefully, the reporters wouldn’t notice you walking to your car. As entertained as they are with Dr. Anderson, you knew that the minute they saw you, they would drop anything to have one interview with you. Not today, you thought, not any day.

You made you way to your car, which wasn’t very far from the courthouse, thank god. You had been hoping this day would go better, be in your favor. There was no way you could turn this around to seem happier.

Finally you were at your car, and no one seemed to be taking any notice of you. You were a bit surprised. The media had broadcasted this case from the moment that it was announced. You figured that the people who had been giving you threats in your inbox would have shown up and hassled you by now. You knew there was a whole crowd here when you showed up this morning. Now, the only people who you had seen since the end of the case were reporters who didn’t see you. Well, at least _that_ was a good thing.

You pulled your keys out of your pocket cycling through your house keys and some cool keychains you had to get to your car keys. Just as you were about to unlock your car door-

“Going somewhere, Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

“Shit!” You jumped around quickly, your eyes finding a tall woman. Looks like you wouldn’t be getting out of this stupid parking lot unscathed. For a moment, you both regard one another, one with unease and the other with a blank stare.

The woman in front of you is tall, much taller than you, and built like she can kick your ass. You’re pretty sure she could kick anyone’s ass with those calf muscles. She’s wearing all purple, and she’s insanely pretty. Probably one of Dr. Anderson’s many fangirls here to yell at you. God, could this day get any worse.

“Is there something you need?” You say, your eyes darting around to see if a group of people were about to jump you. You clutch your keys like a weapon. “I’ve really got to be going now.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at your voice, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate under her gaze. There was a moment of silence where you shuffled around uncomfortably before she decided to speak.

“Good afternoon, Ms. (Y/L/N), my name is Miss Pauling. I’m here to offer you a job.” Well shit. There was another moment of silence where you two regarded one another once more.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” This has got to be a goddamn joke. Dr. Anderson probably paid this woman to rub your loss in your face because of course you were going to lose today. Everyone except for you seemed to have known that.

“I’m here to offer you a job. Now, I don’t have a lot of time, and I’m going to need your answer now.” Miss Pauling pulled out a folder from the briefcase that she was holding and handed it to you. “Here are the papers letting you know what we will expect from you and a contract that we expect you to sign.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re acting like I’m going to say yes when I don’t even know what the job is yet.” Miss Pauling merely gave you a look, one that said that you were being dumb.

“You lost the case, Ms. (Y/L/N).” You flinched at the matter of fact tone in her voice. You knew it, you knew you lost the case, but no one had said it out loud to you yet. “The only people who will hire you now are restaurants and clubs. You can’t follow your dreams anymore. This has ruined your career.”

She was right. If you already got where you wanted to be, if you already had the position that you wanted, then maybe you could continue with only minor setbacks, but because you were just a simple intern whose reputation was now one filled with accusations, not many people were going to hire you.

Of course there was a chance that you would get past this. It’s happened before, but there was only a minor chance. Plus if you did get far, Dr. Anderson had so much power that he would stop you from getting where you wanted to be.

“I don’t even know what the job is. Can you at least tell me that?” You said, your eyes finding Miss Pauling’s.

“You’ll be something like… a caretaker, except instead of taking care of old people, you’ll be taking care of nine young men.” You hummed in response.

“Do they have some kind of… disability?” Miss Pauling smirked at your question.

“You could say that. Like I said, the expectations for the job are in the file.” You waited a moment for her to continue, but she merely crossed her arms at you, waiting.

Fine, you thought, I’ll read the fucking file.

_(Y/N) (Y/L/N),_

_If you’re reading this now, then I’m assuming you lost the case. Quite nice of you to take a stand, but I’m afraid we all knew you were going to lose. Now, since of course you’re going to accept my job offer, I’ll assume that Miss. Pauling already told you your job title._

_You will be a caretaker for nine men: feeding them, cleaning the lounge and the kitchen area, and making sure they don’t harm one another. You do not have to clean their rooms, the communal bathroom that they share, nor do you have to clean the medical room. You’ll work weekdays but not weekends. We will also house you where you will have your own lounge area and bathroom._

_The contract in this file merely lets us know that you understand to follow our orders. I expect you to be here with Miss Pauling when she comes back._

_The Administrator_

“Okay, so I have so many questions.”

“Miss (Y/L/N), I don’t have time for this. I’m just here to see if you will accept our job offer.” You huffed in frustration.

“How am I supposed to accept your job offer when I don’t really understand who I’m working for, who these nine men are, or why you guys even chose me? I’m not a nurse, and I’m not a professional chef. Why are you guys doing this?”

“It’s because we know you are desperate, Miss (Y/L/N). Your life has effectively been ruined today.”

You leaned against the door of your car, thoughts piling in your mind. Miss Pauling wasn’t exactly right in her statement, but you knew that you were going to become desperate. You might not be desperate now, but given time, the people around you were going to make you desperate. Your life wasn’t going to be the same, you were going to be hated by seventy percent of the country now.

“I don’t even know how much this job is going to pay.” You were on your last leg. Miss Pauling and you knew that you were about to be caught.

“10,000 dollars a week.”

“Well fuck, you should have just started with that.” Miss Pauling laughed, her stony features softening to a pretty smile. She slowly reached out to you and took the letter from this Administrator person out of your hands. You looked down to see the contract now left in your hands.

The fucking contract that had thirty fucking pages.

“What the fuck? How am I supposed to read this?” Miss Pauling looked at you, an amused glint in her eye.

“You’re not supposed to.” You stared at Miss Pauling in shock. Well, at least she was honest. You looked down at the contract again, a nervous feeling settling into your stomach.

Fuck it, you thought. You had nothing else to lose.

Miss Pauling smiled at you as you grabbed a pen from your purse and sold your soul to this new job. “Thank you for your cooperation, Miss (Y/L/N).” She grabbed the folder containing your now signed contract before putting it back in her briefcase. “I will be back tomorrow to pick you up. You may bring anything with you, including furniture as I will have a moving truck with me. It’s nice doing business with you.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks for the job.” You call back, watching as Miss Pauling turned, her hips swishing to an unheard song.

You sighed once Miss Pauling disappeared behind a corner. Well, at least you didn’t have to worry about bills or anything. You had a job again, one that paid significantly more than your old one.

You turned back to your car, ready to leave.

“Hey, there she is! The woman who ruined Dr. Anderson’s life.”

Shit, fuck, you hurriedly got into your car, your wide eyes watching as a group of men ran your way.

Time to get out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reader: this has really been the worst day of my life... i need someone to be my friend...
> 
> reader: maybe send me some angels... the nicest angels you have
> 
> the team: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> ***
> 
> this all came to me right before i went to bed, and it wouldn't leave my mind. hopefully i'll do the boys justice...
> 
> ***  
> If you guys want to talk about Team Fortress 2 or any of the other fandoms that I'm interested in, check out my [tumblr](https://arainywriter.tumblr.com/)


	2. Your Middle Name Is Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've made a mistake, but at least you get a cool nickname because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took forever to write simply because i had no fucking clue how to start it... oh well, i think it looks good.
> 
> also, the administrator doesn't look like a real word to me anymore...

After careful consideration and a few panic attacks, it’s very clear to you that you have made a mistake.

You have quite possibly made the absolute worst mistake of your life.

No, you definitely made the worst mistake of your life. 

It’s fitting that all it took was a pretty face with bulging muscles in a purple suit to make you sign your whole life away. And that is what you have effectively done. 

You fucking signed your life away.

The Administrator and Miss Pauling watch you, different emotions on each of their faces. You think Miss Pauling feels sorry for you, but the Administrator… She looks like she’s having the time of her life.

You try to keep it together, you really do, but what are you supposed to say when you’ve been told you’ve been taken out of your time period only to take care of a fucking group of mercenaries?

No, you’re honestly asking, because you have no fucking clue how to respond to what is happening to you right now.

You should have read the fine print! Why didn’t you read the fucking fine print? That’s what any sane person would have fucking done!

You clench your hands into fists, pulling yourself up until you’re standing at full height. You know you’re not very intimidating, too much fat around your cheeks that keeps you looking eternally youthful, more weight around your stomach than what you think is healthy for your age and stature, and let’s not forget that you’re essentially squaring off against two badass looking women who could definitely kick your ass....

But goddamn it, it’s the principle of the matter here. You deserve to be angry and scared and so fucking confused!

“Take me back. Now.” You think you’ve done a good job of keeping your voice even and low. Hell, you even sound intimidating to yourself, but after a moment of silence, the Administrator simply laughs in your face.

It’s a mocking laugh, loud and low. At the sound of it, you hunch over, hiding your tear-stained face. At the sound of it, you know how the rest of this conversation is going to go. You know you’ve already lost.

You made such a huge fucking mistake.

When the Administrator quiets, you look back up again- and, goddamn it, you can’t believe you’re about to do this. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees, your hands coming together like you’re about to pray.

Which in a way you are… If praying sounded a whole lot like begging.

“Please.” Miss Pauling looks away from you, but you don’t even notice, your eyes never wavering away from the Administrator’s amused face. “Please, I had-have a family. A life. I would never had signed that stupid contract if I had known you would-would do this.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Ms. (Y/N).” The Administrator waves a hand at you before turning her chair to face the computer behind her. “Besides, we’ve looked into your family prior to offering you the job.” She glances at you, a smirk slowly forming onto her face. “You’re not exactly on good terms with them… haven’t been for a while.”

She’s right. You haven’t been on good terms with your family for years, not since junior year of college. But… but you always thought that at some point you would get enough courage to talk to them again. To rebuild the relationship. To trust in your family once again.

And now, you’re never going to have the opportunity.

There’s some part of you that isn’t focusing on the fact that you’ll never see your family again, though. And that small part of you is wondering how long they watched you, how long have they been planning to offer you this job…

How long have they known about you?

But the worry and the terror in your heart is too focused on the fact that you are stuck in the 1960’s with no one but yourself to blame.

“Please… I-I promise I won’t tell anyone anything about this.” You desperately glance around the weird scientific room. “You-you must have something to-to… I don’t know, zap my memories away or something.”

“Why, why yes. Yes, we do.” The Administrator looks towards Miss Pauling. “Dear, would you mind showing Ms. (Y/N) the object in question?”

Miss Pauling looks at you for a moment, and you look at her, hope in your eyes. Then she sighs, reaches behind her, and pulls out a gun.

The message is not lost on you.

Well, you tried. You really did. But because of your idiotic thinking and your inability to do anything good for yourself, you have officially found yourself in the worst possible situation of your life.

Good job!

No, really.

After a moment where you stare at both Miss Pauling and the Administrator far longer than necessary, you push yourself up into a standing position. If you’re going to ruin your life, you might as well keep a little bit of your dignity while doing it.

“So… these mercenaries, what exactly am I expecting from them?” You brush imaginary dirt off your shoulders, purposefully not looking at Miss Pauling as she puts her gun back… wherever she had it.

The Administrator turns back to look at you, the smirk having not left her lips while she was looking at her computer. “Glad to see you’re finally cooperating with us, Ms. (Y/N).”

Cooperating… more like trying not to fucking die.

The Administrator waves a hand at Miss Pauling once again, and Miss Pauling clicks a button on the computer. A hologram- a fucking hologram, what the fuck is this, Star Trek?- appears before you.

The hologram depicts a large, heavy set man holding a huge gun. You try not to shake in your shoes at the sight of him.

“This is Heavy.” You jump a little as Miss Pauling appears next to you, a folder in her hands for you to grab. She nods before returning to the Administrator.

You kind of miss the smile she had given the day before. It had at least made you feel welcomed.

You open the folder Miss Pauling gave you only to see, well, Heavy. It looks like an identity sheet, but most of the information has black lines through it.

Of course it does. What were you expecting?

“The only things you need to know about Heavy is that he’s Russian, that he does not like it when people touch his gun, and that he definitely doesn’t like it when people touch any sandwich that he makes for himself.”

You look up at the Administrator, a tired look in your eyes. “I’m guessing this is how it’s going to go for all the mercenaries, right?”

The Administrator smiles at you, no hint of mirth in her eyes. “I knew you were smart.”

With another click on the computer by Miss Pauling, a new hologram appears, this time of a much shorter man with his helmet obscuring most of his face.

You quickly shift to the next paper in your folder, your finger ghosting over the name they have given this man.

“The Soldier. Obsessively American.”

After a few moments of silence, you look up at the Administrator. “Is that it?”

She shrugs at you, her hands pulling a cigarette case out of her pocket. “Sometimes his old roommate shows up to get revenge or something. Make sure to look out for that.”

And with that weird statement, she lights up a cigarette and promptly sticks it in her mouth.

Yep, you were definitely right. People always looked cooler and calmer when they were smoking a cigarette.

Another click, another hologram. You audibly gasp at this one.

He’s so… young. He looks like he just left college, and he’s a… he’s a mercenary. You’re pretty sure you both are around the same age.

“Scout. Young, brash, and very fast.” 

“He’s so… young.”

Once again, the Administrator merely shrugs, her eyes staring at the cigarette in her hands. “He’s only twenty-three.”

You jerk at the statement, not expecting the Administrator to divulge such a fact, but when you look down at the folder and find his identity sheet, you notice that his age isn’t redacted like the others.

As weird as that is, you’re more shocked about his age than the fact that this company actually told you how old he is. God, you’re only a few years older than him.

You nod, still concerned but ready to move on. Both you and the Administrator stare at the hologram… for a while. It’s only when the both of you look towards Miss Pauling does she realize you both are waiting for her.

Huh, you’re pretty sure she was staring at Scout far longer than need be.

With another click, the thought drifts away from your mind.

In place of Scout is once again another man. He’s- thankfully- older with dark skin and a beard. You don’t know why, but you immediately like him.

He just looks fun.

“Demoman. Scottish and an alcoholic.” The Administrator sighs before looking at you. “We’re hoping you can fix that.”

“Fix him being Scottish or fix him being an alcoholic?” Miss Pauling snorts at your question but immediately quiets when the Administrator turns to glare at her.

“Don’t play dumb, Ms. (Y/N).” Well damn, just trying to make it more entertaining.

Another click, and another… well, you're not sure who is standing before you. The person is shorter than most of the mercenaries you’ve seen, except for perhaps the Soldier, but they’re also the most clothed. The person has a heavy suit on with a gas mask on.

It’s kind of scary, but you quickly push that feeling away.

If you were going to have this job- and you were going to have this job, no way were you dying on the clock- you needed to be a lot braver than you were before.

Of all the identity sheets you’ve seen, this person has the most redacted information out of all the others. Even the likes and dislikes area is redacted.

“This is Pyro.” The Administrator turns to wave at Miss Pauling to click the button, but you stop her quickly.

“There’s nothing else?” At the Administrator’s blank stare, you hurriedly contine. “You’re not even going to tell me their gender or anything like that.”

“No, nothing else. As far as you’re concerned, Pyro doesn’t have a gender.” Well, that’s simple. Honestly, you’re very intrigued by this mystery person. 

Before you can ask anymore questions, Miss Pauling quickly clicks the button.

The next man is tall, thin, and has sideburns on the sides of his face. He’s wearing a hat that leaves his face hidden in shadows, but you can still see the aviators resting on his nose.

“Here we have Sniper. Australian. Do not, under any circumstances, drink anything he leaves lying around.” The Administrator takes a long drag of her cigarette, a haunted look in her eyes. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen on her face since she laughed when you had a panic attack in front of her. “ _Especially_ if it’s yellow.”

You try not to think about what that statement implies.

Miss Pauling even looks a little queasy as she clicks the button to go to the next hologram.

“Next we have Spy.” The Administrator dabs her cigarette out on her table before dropping it to the floor and stomping on it. You try not to flinch at the sound. “The most we can tell you is he’s French. Staunchly French.”

You nod, not surprised. The guy is tall, thin, with a mask over his head. There’s a cigarette dangling from his lips, even in the hologram, and all you can think is…

Yeah, that man is definitely French.

Miss Pauling clicks the computer again, and a new man once again appears. This time the man is stocky, white, and has a hardhat, goggles, and gloves on. There’s a smile on his face that makes him look gentlemanly.

You’re not going to lie. You’re pretty sure he’s your current favorite as of right now.

“Say hello to the Engineer.” By the Administrator’s wicked smile, you’re pretty sure he’s her favorite as well. “He’s from the South. When you get to the compound, ask him to check the stoves in the kitchen. He’s _handy_ with those sorts of things.”

Did… Did the Administrator just pun at you?

Okay, today is a very weird day.

Miss Pauling clicks and a new hologram appears right before your eyes. 

“And finally, we have the Medic.”

The man before you is tall- and you can already tell you’re going to be towered by everyone in this fucking place because of fucking course- with a big smile on his face, but while Engineer’s made him look nice and sweet, the Medic just looks demented. He’s got grey in his hair and a crazed look in his eye.

All in all, you’re definitely a little frightened.

“German and handy with a bow saw. Just make sure he doesn’t use it on you.” After a pause, the Administrator continues speaking, though this time softer than before. “When you’re sick, injured, or just need a physical taken, you’ll report to the Medic.”

You can’t imagine reporting to that man for any medical needs, but based off the Administrator’s stern face, you don’t think there’s anyone else you’ll be able to turn to.

Miss Pauling clicks the button one last time, and the hologram disappears. You reach out to give Miss Pauling the folder back, but she merely shakes her head at you.

“It’s yours to keep. Could come in handy someday,” she says to you, but you’re not as convinced. There’s so much redacted information in the stupid folder, you don’t think you’ve learned anything about any of the mercenaries you’re supposedly going to care for.

“Do you have any questions, Ms. (Y/N)?” You can tell by the look on the Administrator’s face that she’s hoping you don’t have any, but god, you so do.

“Yes, actually. What exactly are my duties as… caretaker?”

The Administrator raises a neat eyebrow at you. “It was in the folder Miss Pauling first gave you when you two met.”

“Yes, I remember, but now I’m wondering if you forgoed information just like you forgot to tell me that I would be taken out of my own time period, away from my family, my friends, just to take care of some mercenaries in the middle of nowhere.”

The Administrator barks out a laugh, and you think you even see Miss Pauling crack a smile. You don’t really know why. You weren’t trying to be funny.

“And I thought you had no backbone. You're actually a little sassy, aren’t you?” You don’t feel sassy right now.

You just feel tired.

How is it that the only thing you had to worry about was whether or not your boss was going to go to jail, and now here you are worried you’re going to die for being an idiot?

You wish you could time travel back in time just to slap yesterday you. Yesterday you had no fucking common sense.

“Like we said in the folder, you’ll mostly just be cooking and cleaning after the mercenaries to make their jobs easier. You don’t have to clean the common bathroom they use, nor do you have to clean their rooms” The Administrator shrugs, her hands reaching for another cigarette. “Keep the kitchen and the common living room clean, keep the mercs happy, and try not to get killed. Simple as that.”

“What do you mean try not to get killed? Are they going to kill me?” 

“Maybe. I hope not.”

Fuck, that didn’t sound good. You thought you just had to worry about the Administrator murdering you! Was there no rule about the mercenaries killing you?

“The last caretakers we tried to hire were all men, and they all died. We’re hoping that by hiring a woman the mercs will be less inclined to kill you. But who knows… I don’t control what they do.” 

Oh fuck, you were definitely going to die. You were going to straight up die.

“Just try not to annoy them. That’s what killed the last caretaker.”

WHAT WONDERFUL ADVICE! YES, SO SIMPLE!

“You’ll be given your own room and bathroom since you are a woman. You can lock your door too, whatever good that will do for you.”

Wonderful, simply wonderful.

“Your paycheck will be automatically deposited into the bank account we’ve created for you. Since you are in a different time period now,” you flinched at the reminder, ”your old bank account doesn’t exist anymore which is why we’ve created you a new one.”

Miss Pauling hands you a simple black wallet, and when you open it, it has all your valuable information, including a shiny new debit card.

At least you’ll be richer after all this.

“Is that all, Miss (Y/N)?” The Administrator cocks an eyebrow at you.

“One more question actually.”

The Administrator sighs, and you can see that she’s becoming more and more annoyed with you. “Well, I don’t have all day. What’s your question?”

“All of the mercenaries have an alias. Do I get one?” The Administrator’s lips part, and her and Miss Pauling give each a small look. 

“A remarkably good question…” The Administrator hums for a moment before her eyes light up with amusement.

  
“I think we’ll call you... _The Nanny._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the administrator: we've taken you from your time period, ripped you away from your family, and threatened to kill you, but hey at least you got that moneyyyyyy
> 
> reader:
> 
> the administrator:
> 
> reader: *muttering under their breath* i've made a huge mistake
> 
> ***  
> If you guys want to talk about TF2 or any of the other fandoms that I'm interested in, check out my [tumblr](https://arainywriter.tumblr.com/)


End file.
